


Lie

by Justcommander_archive



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Gore, M/M, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 08:18:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14637825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justcommander_archive/pseuds/Justcommander_archive
Summary: "I didn't want to do this. Not anymore... not to him especially when he was unconscious. I promised I wouldn't have done this again, but I did. I needed to know, who did this to him. Who dared to ruin him."





	Lie

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not English, sorry for the mistakes you'll find.
> 
> Warning: this fan fiction conatins graphic description of physical and emotional torture. Robot gore, but still gore. And... kind of cannibalism-necrophilia? Kinda?
> 
> And... yes, none of this is canon.

Poor unfortunate ember... by now he simply didn’t want to wake up anymore, but it was unavoidable. And when he did, there was pain everywhere. Not an exaggeration. Literally everywhere. Starting from his faceplates from the tip of his pede and of his digits.   
How could this be even posisble? How could a sentient being wish to lose the only thing they’ll never have back? How could someone to push one sentient being to wish something like that? Why is a frame even capable to feel so much pain? What is its purpose? Why would one need to cause all this? Just for fun? How could one enjoy someone else’s pain? Why?  
  
He never expected all these questions to cross his tormented processor now. He didn’t expect to be able to still reason at this point, create other thoughts other than: "hurt" "stop" "help". Especially not when an useless amount of warning messages kept most of his mind busy. Not that he actually paid any real attention to them. They were useless.  
He was well aware his left leg was no longer attached to his body. He was aware that the rest of his limbs were so damaged by now that they had the same chances to move of that broken leg on the cold and wet floor, tossed carelessly in a corner.   
He was aware of the exposed and burnt wires that dangled out of his right optic, of the pool of energon and oil that was forming under his neck, liquids trickling out from his open mouth.   
He was also aware of that cold purple servo squeezing his horn tight and pulling against it, threatening to tear it off. But that wasn't gong to happen. Not if he kept pulling instead of taking the chainsaw again. 

He still couldn’t understand what that voice has ben telling him anyway, even if he was sure it was probably just another mockery. It was too far away. Or he was too far gone. Probably the latter. He knew he couldn’t survive. How could he? He had to die now, the moment must have arrived. The sharp scalpel stuffed in his mouth probably reached some importamt cable somehow.   
But no. Deep inside he knew he has just been praying for it. Why couldn’t he just die now, why just another simple fainting? That was much worse. He kewn it was worse!  
He couldn’t offline the only optic he had left and let himself slide in the darkness. No… he knew his torturer didn’t want it. That psychopath would have been mad if he did. He hated it when his favorite victim escaped from the agony of torture. And to make him pay, everything would have became much worse when he would have came back conscious. But as much as he tried to fight it… he failed to stay awake. His energy levels were dangerously low, he was tired. He hadn't refueled properly in what seemed to be an eternity, and he didn't have the strenght to fight.  
  
  
A bright white light. Two red optics stared down at him. The light blue frame of a mnemosurgeon right above the Phase Sixer   
«Can you hear me…?»  
That soft touch on his shoulder plating was the gentlest thing he could have ever felt in three years… he couldn’t even care to consider himself selfish for not caring about the concern in that voice. He didn’t struggle to talk and reassure him, or confirm that yes, he could hear. Everything still hurt too much to even try to talk. But everything felt much lighter now, as if his heavy frame wasn't actaulyl standing on a surfaem but floating on a soft cloud of smoke.   
  
A second caress down the right arm… or what there was left of it. It was warm, delicate… How could his body feel that nice sensation after so much agony? Didn't it become completely numb to everything?   
«Don’t… don’t offline the optic, stay with me. N-no don’t! Don’t—»

  
Soon that calm atmosphere was gone again. The light faded away. He was sinking again in a hole of a cold darkness. His frame felt heavy and with a terrible feeling of being dragged down, downing into noting. The smell of oil and energon returned, becoming unbearable. He was back there… back where he apparently belonged, three remaining limbs stepped down the table with his own wires. Not that he actaully needed to be restrained, since it was obvious he couldn't have moved them anymore. They were practically already removed, but still attached enough to feel everything.   
«How rude.»  
Were the first two words he could actually hear as his optics focused first on the colors puple and pink, then on the big mech next to him. «Ignoring the one who’s talking to you isn’t polite. Left alone falling in recharge in front of them!» The drill stuck inside his glossa got pulled out, tearing it in half. He didn't even notice the Warden chnged tools. A gush of bright purple fluid started to flow down his throat and mixing with oil, forcing him to cough and splutter it against his tormentor’s arm and part of his own chest plating.   
  
«Tsk Tsk tsk... I should punish you for that…» there was a sigh and a clearly fake expression of disappontment on the Autobot's faceplates that soon twisted into a devious frin «but I think I’ll punish someone else for it.» Why? What was he  talking about now...?  
Oh no… has he been screaming? No. No no no! NO! He shouldn’t have fell unconscious! Now he’s been screaming for how long…??  
  
The tall mech turned away from the table «Let’s see… Oh three seconds. Three it is then-»  
«N-no!»  
He slowly turned around «No?» he smiled again, giving his helpless victim one of those looks one would give to a silly sparkling that doesn’t understand what they’re even saying, or that is complaining for something stupid.  
«Leave them alone…! I-I’m the one who broke in. Hurt me! Me! Not them!»   
The Warden quickly walked back close to the table, collecting a long tool on his way. An endoscopic claw.  
«Oh yes, I admit that having one of the most powerful mechs in the universe at my mercy is the most exciting thing I could wish for.» he took a small pause and barely scratched the captive's mouth with the torture instrument he was holding. «But as I already told you, this ugly armor of yours doesn’t allow me to get creative. That chainsaw bores me after a while...» He sighed and caressed the other’s cheek with a digit, making his whole frame shudder with disgust. «And those soft lips of yours are way too beautiful to ruin.» he added, sliding his digit down to tace the lines of his mouth, just slightly open and still unable to close completely.   
The light in those red optics suddenly turned darker, a nasty grin appeared on his faceplates «Yes... So what about ruining another pair of lips instead?» he purred into his audio receptor, chuckling darkly as hs servo travelled lower, grabbing on the exposed neck cables.  
  
  
«Please stay with me…!» The must getler voice was back. When did it return? Why all he could see now was white? He wanted to see the mnemosurgeon again. But as much as he tried to focus on is surroundings, t was all useless. There was nothing to see. Nothing but a strong light coming from... from everywhere apparently. «Hang on, you’ll be okay. You’re going to be okay, just don’t… offline—»  
No. No. Why? again?!  
He wanted to stay there. Who cared if he couldn’t see a thing. At least he didn’t need to see that monster killing his teammates in front of him. He couldn't see this happening. No, no more. Not again. No...!

  
«Stop..!» he sobbed when his optic started to work just in time to let him see a small flying frame falling on the ground, its colors soon fading to grey. The amused laugher barely audible under the desperate cries of fear of the other two mechs dangling from two dirty hooks that impaled them through both their wrists. They were going to die too… and he could do nothing to save them.   
«Stop… J-just stop! Don’t hurt them! Take me instead!»  
«Jealous?» Another sigh and a roll of optics «You shouldn't, since I always choose you before the others. But what doesn’t work on you, I’ll try it on them instead.»  
And to prove his words, the big Autobot collected a pair of large pliers and began to stab on his chest plating. Or at least tried to stab him in and peel off his armor. But that wouldn’t have worked. He only had a few instruments that would have managed to cut through his armor... and he knew what they were.   
«Too bad.» He didn’t even fake to be disappointed.  
  
This seemd much worse than physical pain… every time it hurt so much and made him beg to become the target of those torments he inflicted to his teammates once again. No matter if he would have wanted him to stop later, that was just the pain making him talk... but he couldn't stand to be the reason why they were all dying terribly.  
This was a never-ending nightmare. What did he ever do to deserve all this? Why was this happening? Why did it need to happen?   
He heard the Autobot humming, playing with the dirt cables dangling from the grey helm of the third victim «You know? I suddenly start to really appreciate those form your faction just once they’re dead.»  
He could do nothing but watch when the bigger mech licked up the energon sliding down the open mouth, sliding his glossa inside and collecting more of it.  
He just wanted to save his teammates from this nightmare indeed. He only got sucked inside too. He failed. And now he was making them all die. It was all his fault. He caused this.  
And he was tired.  
  
«Fortress Maximus…»  
«Hm?»  
«I want to die.»  
The Warden’s grin turned into a laugher as he let the helm he held in a servo fall on the floor, kicking out of his way the grey frame it was onece attached to as he stepped closer «Oh dear Overlord…» he cooed «but you already are dying.»  
Five digits grabbed tightly on his horn once again, pulling his helm up, close to his faceplates.  
The Phase Sixer felt a sudden need to purge his tanks when that devious grin leaned closer.. and closer, till it pressed hard against his lips, kissing him and biting hungrily. He felt his deceased teammate life fluids dripping past his denta and tears started running down his only good optic left, trickling under his chin.  
«You started to die from the very moment you stepped in my prison.»  
  
  
«Overlord…»     
«Yes?»  
«What do you remember?»  
He didn’t answer yet. He kept looking away, focusing on... a wall, or a corner maybe, obviously avoiding optic contact.   
  
«I don’t remember anything.»  
He answered a moment before standing up and walking towards the door. And I? What else could I do, if not just burying my faceplates in my servos and biting on my glossa, holding back from accusing him: “Liar” ?

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick oneshot. sometimes I just need to write down ideas I have because probably one day, when i'll learn how to draw properly I could make a comic out of it.
> 
> Ah if you wish to know how I see SG overlord he's pink. And white. With blue optics.   
> While trepan is mostly light blue/indigo like a normal human neurosurgeon. And red optics.


End file.
